In a move that has international journalists shaking their heads and Hong Kong's press freedom in freefall, two reporters were sentenced for 21 and 14 months for daring to publish seditious thoughts—because who knew free speech could be so criminal?

The sentencing of Chung Pui-kuen and Patrick Lam marks a chilling escalation in Hong Kong's crackdown on press freedom, as they become the first journalists convicted under colonial-era sedition laws since the 1997 handover. Their 'seditious' crime? Publishing articles that dared to offer dissenting views, including commentary from exiled pro-democracy activists—yet another reminder that in today's Hong Kong, even words can get you locked up faster than a mismanaged dim sum order.

Chung Pui-kuen, who received a 21-month sentence, must be wondering if he inadvertently signed up for a revolutionary new journalism workshop titled 'How to Lose Your Freedom in 21 Months.' Meanwhile, Patrick Lam's sentence was cut to 14 months, thanks to some time served during pre-trial custody and health concerns. It appears even the legal system recognizes that journalists should probably be kept alive and out of prison as long as possible, presumably to continue their work from inside the walls.

Their conviction stems from a conspiracy to publish seditious materials through their media outlet, Stand News, a publication that was evidently more about standing up for democracy than standing down from authority. The trial is based on 11 articles that were deemed to ripple with 'seditious intentions,' a phrase which seems to suggest that the stories might have actually stirred the pot, leaving those in power quite hungry for control.

The fact that this case was brought under a colonial-era law is, perhaps, the most surprising twist in a saga that seems to have almost scripted itself from a historical fiction novel. The law makes sedition punishable by up to two years in prison, although even in this case, it’s hard to shake the feeling that the current national security law adds a dash of modern flair—a sprinkle of existential dread mixed in with the already ominous implications of governance.

Critics have raised eyebrows—and perhaps blood pressures—over how far press freedom has eroded in Hong Kong, particularly since the enactment of the national security laws, which could easily be mistaken for an extended series of unfortunate events for journalists. With the walls closing in, it’s almost entertaining to think about journalists becoming the new underground rebels, tucked away in the dark corners of alleyways, typing their articles on vintage typewriters.

In the grand scheme of things, the diplomatic fallout has already begun, as various Western governments, including the U.S., have condemned these convictions. Many have labeled the sentences a 'direct attack on media freedom,' a statement that likely won’t improve the Hong Kong government’s mood. However, critics might want to reconsider their wording—suggesting that 'Hong Kong’s press freedom is spiraling into a direct attack zone' might hit a bit closer to home.

On the flip side, Hong Kong authorities have been quick to defend their actions. They’ve reiterated that journalists operating within their borders must abide by all laws. One can almost picture officials scrambling through the law books, searching for the fine print that defines seditious articles, while perhaps considering an ‘Ignorance is Bliss’ policy when it comes to freedom of expression.

As if the spaceship of press freedom wasn't already feeling the strain of a heavy gravity well, the Hong Kong Journalists Association also reported an alarming trend: systemic harassment of journalists. Online trolls and offline dangers have become the bread and butter of reporting in a city that used to pride itself on its position as a bastion of free speech. Even the trolls seem to be conditionally employed these days, scouring social media for any remotely seditious materials to unleash their brand of justice on unsuspecting journalists.

To round out the grim review, Hong Kong's ranking in the 2024 World Press Freedom Index plummeted to 135th out of 180 countries, leaving it somewhere near the bottom of a barrel that is already quite hard to scrape. At this point, the only thing the press can seem to rely on is the hope that a subsequent survey might see them rise to a more respectable position—like maybe right next to a nation notorious for its love of dictatorships.

Ultimately, the new world order in Hong Kong, as reflected by these sentences, sends a clear signal: in the arena of dissent, words now carry a hefty price, and that price includes an all-inclusive stay at the Corrections Hotel—with limited views, and possibly a restricted internet connection.